Guardian Angel Rewrite
by nibblesfan
Summary: Eight years after Christine left Erik for Raoul, she still can't shake her feelings for him. Is it possible that her Angel of Music is still out there, waiting for her return to him? Rewrite of my first fanfic
1. Dreams of the Past

Erik's arms wrapped tightly around Christine and pulled close. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, which she eagerly returned. "Christine," he breathed when they finally broke apart. "Christine you came back."

"I should never have left," she whispered. "Oh God, how could I leave you?"

"It doesn't matter now," he replied softly, brushing a few of her wild chocolate brown curls out of her face. "You're here with me. Oh Christine, I never thought I'd see you again."

She burst into tears and rested her head against his chest. "I'm sorry Erik. I'm so, _so_ sorry. I made a terrible, terrible mistake. I should never ever have left. Erik, can you ever forgive me?"

He kissed her again. "Don't cry, my love. We're together, the way it was meant to be. That's all that matters now." She nodded as he brought her in for another kiss.

"Wait," she whispered, suddenly breaking contact.

"What is it mon Ange?" he asked his brow furrowing.

"I…I need to tell you something."

Erik caressed her cheek gently. "Anything." She bit her lip before leaning in and whispering her secret in his ear. His eyes widened. "You mean…?"

"Yes," she replied. "I do."

"Oh Christine, my Christine," he whispered then cupped her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers once more.

* * *

Christine woke with a gasp. The man beside her stirred, but didn't wake. She felt a pang of guilt as she studied her husband's sleeping face. Poor Raoul, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve a wife who dreamed of another man, especially a wife who dreamed of another man even after nearly eight years of marriage.

Careful so that she didn't disturb Raoul further, Christine slipped out of bed and made her way to the balcony that overlooked the gardens of their mansion. She stared out at Paris, wondering whatever happened to the man the world knew as the Phantom of the Opera. She was probably one of the few people, if not the only person, who knew him as Erik.

He had been her Angel of Music, her guide and guardian a long time ago. Erik had taught her to sing and helped her become an opera sensation. Unfortunately he had also fallen in love with her and become obsessed. Her so-called Angel destroyed the only home she had ever known and taken her to his beneath the opera house. Raoul followed them and tried to save her, but she would up saving them both with a simple kiss. All Erik ever really wanted was someone to love him.

But why was he still in her head? It had been eight years for God's sake! The man terrorized her, destroyed her home, and threatened Raoul, yet he was still haunting her dreams. Echoes of his voice still taunted her, and every so often she thought she felt his touch.

"Christine?" She gasped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

She whirled around, her heart pounding. "Raoul!" she cried. "My God, you scared me!"

Raoul put his arm around her waist. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Christine replied. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

He gently brushed a few curls from her face and kissed her gently. "Christine darling, what are you doing out of bed? Is something bothering you?"

"Nothing," she lied. "Nothing's bothering me. I just had a dream and thought some fresh air would do me some good."

"Was it a nightmare?" he asked, his sparkling blue eyes full of concern for his wife. "Christine, if something is going on, tell me. I can help you. You don't have to hide anything from me. If something is troubling you, left me know."

She smiled softly at him. "Raoul, it was nothing."

"Christine…"

"I promise you it was nothing," she insisted. "And even if it was, I have you." Christine began to sing softly, "_You're here, with me, beside me, to guard me and to guide me."_

Her husband kissed her again. "Come back to bed Little Lotte. You need the rest." Raoul guided her back into their bed. "Goodnight Christine," he whispered as he put his arm around her waist. "I love you."

"Goodnight Raoul," she murmured in reply.

As her husband's breathing began to even out, Christine felt her thoughts drifting back to Erik. She closed her eyes and wondered whatever happened to him. Did he still live at the Opera Populaire? Or had he moved on? Was he still in love with her? For all she knew, Erik could still be following her, watching her like he always had.

The door to their room opened. Christine sat up with a gasp. Raoul's eyes snapped open with the sudden movement and turned to see who was in the doorway. He smiled when he saw it was their five-year old daughter Aria, the younger of the two children, there with her favorite doll in her arms and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She padded into the room. "Apparently no one is sleeping tonight," Raoul said with a smile.

Aria cradled the doll against her chest. "I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?"

Christine opened her arms and her daughter climbed into her embrace. "Of course you can darling." She hugged Aria tightly. "We can't have any more bad dreams can we?"

Raoul kissed his daughter's forehead. "Goodnight sweetheart."

Stroking her daughter's hair, Christine hummed a lullaby until the little girl was fast asleep in her arms. Once she was asleep, Christine laid down next to her husband, whose arm came around them both in a protective embrace.

As she tried to fall asleep herself, Christine studied her little girl. Aria, Raoul's beloved little princess, was the spitting image of her father, with his sandy hair and kind blue eyes. Her son Kristoffer however, was not. Dark hair and green eyes made stick out from the rest of the family. Sometimes she wondered why Raoul never questioned it, but then again, maybe some questions were better left unasked.


	2. Uncertainty

_Erik was stunned by the sight before him. "Christine." He exhaled slowly. "You're back." His voice grew hard. "I thought you had a wedding in the morning. Shouldn't you be with your precious Vicomte?" he spat._

_"I…I… I came to say goodbye," she said softly._

_He stormed past her. "I'm surprised you're here. I figured he wouldn't allow it." Erik whirled back around to look at her, disbelief in his eyes. "Unless you disobeyed him to come. But you wouldn't do that. Would you?"_

_"Raoul doesn't know that I'm here," she admitted._

_"And what happens when I decide I don't want to lose you again?" Erik asked, cupping her cheek with his hand. "What if I can't lose you again?"_

_Christine turned her head away. "Erik, you let us leave remember? In fact, you forced us to go. You're not going to stop me if I choose to walk out that door right now. Besides, we both know that Raoul will come straight here if he can't find me tomorrow morning."_

_"Why did you come?"_

_"You were my Angel of Music, my guardian and protector, for years. I couldn't just walk away from you without a proper goodbye," Christine said sadly._

_"I assumed that returning the ring was your way of making your decision clear," Erik replied bitterly. "There was no need to rub salt in my wounds."_

_"Erik," she whispered softly, closing the gap between them, her hands resting on his chest. "I don't mean to hurt you. My selfishness has caused you to suffer more than you deserve." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "I' m so sorry. I don't want to hurt you anymore. But I had to see you one last time."_

_He leaned in and captured her lips. Erik knew that it would only make his heartbreak that much worse, but he needed to pretend, even for a moment, that she would change her mind. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, as Erik's arm went around her waist and pulled her against him, hungry for more._

* * *

His eyes snapped open, pulling him out of the dream. Erik grabbed a nearby candle and flung it at the wall in frustration. Why did these memories continue to haunt him? It had been eight years of nothing but misery.

Erik stormed over to a mirror and yanked the curtain that covered it away. Yanking away his mask, Erik stared at himself with nothing but contempt. "You're a monster," he snarled at his reflection. "She never loved you. Christine deserved the happy ending she got. She married her Prince Charming, not the beast. No one can love a monster."

"_But she came back_," a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him. That night still tormented him. Erik didn't know if it would have been better if she never returned, but she had. The night before her wedding she came back. "And then she left and married _him_," he spat out loud. "If she really cared, she wouldn't have left again."

"She left and never looked back remember?" Erik screamed at his reflection. He punched the mirror with every ounce of strength he had as bitter tears of regret filled his eyes. The glass shattered and cut his hand. "She left you and never spared you another thought!"

The smashed mirror distorted his already deformed face, jagged cracks running through his reflection. "That's what she saw every single time she looked at you. No wonder she left." Erik knew, and had always known, what he was. He was a liar, a thief, a murderer, and she had known it from the moment she laid eyes on him.

* * *

Raoul watched as his son's fingers flew across the piano keys. Even though Christine had given up singing professionally after the fire at the Populaire, she had insisted that the children be given basic knowledge of music. While Aria had shown some talent, Kristoffer seemed to breathe music. "What's that you're playing?" he asked.

Kristoffer jumped, not realizing that his father was standing right there. "Just a song in my head," he replied softly, as the song seemed to grow and surpass the skill of the average seven year old. The boy truly had inherited his mother's gift for music.

The little boy suddenly stopped. "Can you help me?"

"What do you need?" Raoul asked.

His son played a simple phrase. "Can you play that?"

He sat down next to Kristoffer and repeated the notes for him. "Of course," he replied with a nod. Just because he didn't have any formal musical training didn't mean Raoul couldn't mimic a handful of notes. Kristoffer resumed his own playing, while Raoul continued to play the phrase.

"Can I help?" Aria demanded as she bounded into the room.

Raoul was about to tell her no, but wasn't quite sure how to. Luckily he didn't have to. Instead Kristoffer slid over to make room for her and helped her onto the piano bench. He then played two notes over and over for her. "Play that," he ordered, then motioned for Raoul to continue playing and added his own melody.

The resulting music was astonishing. The two notes that Aria was now playing filled a void that Raoul didn't even know was there. He couldn't believe that a professional composer could write something like this, let alone a seven year old boy. It just didn't seem possible.

He started wondering again. But no, it couldn't be. He had done the math countless times. Kristoffer would have been conceived around their wedding night, but the last time either he or Christine had seen the notorious Phantom of the Opera had been six months before that, the night he rescued Christine from the Phantom's lair. Besides, his wife never knew her family besides her father. It was likely that Kristoffer got his looks from Christine's side of the family. It just had to be a horrible coincidence that the boy bore any resemblance to the man that had given Christine and him so much grief.

Christine stood in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. When Kristoffer finished, Raoul stood and kissed his wife tenderly. "Looks like you're not the only musical person in the family anymore," he said with a smile.


	3. Angel of Music

Raoul gently scooped up the drowsy Aria and carried her to her upstairs as Christine took Kristoffer by the hand and led him up after them. The little girl stirred in her father's arms. "Tell me a story," she demanded.

"Aria darling, it's bedtime," Christine replied gently. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Please Mother," Kristoffer begged. "Just one. Please tell a story!"

She exchanged a glance with her husband, who nodded, allowing the children one small victory. "Why not? One bedtime story." He looked at the children with mock sternness. "But then you two are going straight to bed."

When they reached Aria's room, the little girl crawled into her mother's lap, Kristoffer sat next to her on one side, Raoul on her other. Christine looked to her husband once more, smiled softly, and began the story. "Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls or goblins or shoes?'"

Her husband grinned. It had been years since they had brought up their old game. He continued with, "Or of riddles or frocks?"

The couple took turns telling the story, each saying one like, just like they had all those years ago at the house by the sea when they were about the same age as their children. "Those picnics in the attic?"

"Or of chocolates?"

"Father playing the violin."

"As we read dark stories of the north."

"'No, what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed." Christine carefully watched her husband's reaction. "And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head." They never spoke of Erik, the Opera Populaire, and especially angels.

Perhaps it wasn't the best story to tell the children. They seemed to get more wound up. "Is there really an Angel of Music?" Kristoffer demanded, practically bouncing up and down "Have you ever seen an angel before?"

Christine swallowed hard, completely unsure how to answer. She didn't want to upset Raoul and he was sitting right there. Much to her surprise, he was the one who answered Kristoffer's question. "We saw the Angel of Music a very, very long time ago."

While Raoul's answer was meant to be ambiguous and settle the question, it only seemed to fuel the children's curiosity. "What she look like?" Aria demanded. "Is she beautiful? I bet she is. All angels have to be beautiful."

"The angel is a he," Christine gently corrected. "The Angel of Music is a man. And he is like no one I have ever met before."

Raoul rolled his eyes. "_That_ is an understatement," he muttered under his breath. She shot him a look, but didn't press the issue at all. It would be better to just let the remark slide and not upset her husband. He was still touchy when it came to Erik, understandably so, but sometimes she wished they could just forget any of that ever happened.

"But he plays the loveliest music I've ever heard in the world. It sounds like it has come from heaven itself," Christine continued if Raoul hadn't spoken. "And don't even get me started on his voice." She sighed. "The beauty of his voice is completely indescribable."

Her husband seemed to get tenser and tenser beside her, but didn't speak. "What does he look like?" Aria demanded. "Tell me!"

"He's not like most people," Christine replied vaguely. She didn't want to tell her children that Erik was considered a monster. It would be better just to avoid the question all together.

"What do you mean?" Kristoffer asked, continuing to push the issue.

Christine looked to her husband, but Raoul seemed just as baffled as to how to answer. Finally she settled with yet another ambiguous answer. "He doesn't look like regular people. I don't really know how to describe him. I'm sorry."

The children's faces fell. "Oh," Aria said softly. Her eyes lit up with another thought. "Do you think I'll ever be able to meet him?"

"Can we?" Kristoffer asked excitedly. "Do you know how to find him?"

"I don't think you can find him. It's been years since anyone has seen him," Raoul said, attempting to put a stop to this discussion. Christine could tell the children were starting to try his patience. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He let out a slow breath, trying to relieve some of the frustration before his smile returned, albeit somewhat forced this time. "Would you like to hear another story?" he asked as one last desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Yes!" the children squealed.

"I thought so," Raoul replied. He pulled Aria into his lap and brought Kristoffer around so that the little boy was sitting next to him. "Once upon a time…"

Christine smiled as Raoul told the story to the children. He was such a natural with the children, especially when it came to telling stories. Raoul had learned a lot from when her own father entertained them with his fairy-tales. The children were captivated every time their father told a tale; his facial expressions would change to match what was going on in the story, his voice would rise and fall with the action.

Once the story was finished, they tucked Aria in then led Kristoffer to his room, where they repeated the process. When both children were in bed, Raoul turned to his wife. "Christine, darling…" he started, but his voice trailed off. "I didn't mean…"

She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "It's okay. Talking about…_him_ upsets you. The children didn't know, and you knew they didn't know. You handled it very well."

He cupped her cheek with his hand. "Christine, he tried to take you from me. I know it's been a long time, but what he did to you, to us, was unforgivable."

"I know Raoul," she replied. "But Erik's gone now. It's just you, me, and the children."

Raoul pressed his lips to hers. "I know, and I'm afraid I'm being silly, worrying about things that are long since passed."

"You've always been a bit silly though," Christine teased playfully. "But it's part of your charm."

"And that's why I love you," he replied, his smile returning.


	4. Disappointment

If anyone walking by the ruins of the Opera Populaire bothered to look up, they would see a dark shadow on the rooftop staring out over the city. Erik watched the city below him as people went on with their lives, completely unconcerned about what was going on around them. Most didn't even bother glancing at the abandoned building. Why would they? The story of the Opera Ghost had been practically forgotten over the years, forgotten by all but the Phantom himself.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one who remembered. Surely Christine did. Surely she hadn't forgotten him so easily, not after everything that happened between them. But after everything he put her through, she probably only remembered him in her nightmares.

Where was his angel? What had happened to her? Obviously she had married her precious Vicomte; he remembered reading an announcement in the paper. But then what? While nothing more than intuition, Erik believed she was still in Paris. And if that were the case, he could find her in a heartbeat. A few questions to the right people, and he could be on her doorstep by morning.

But what then? She was a married woman, almost certainly a mother. If she hadn't tried searching him out since that night, Christine obviously wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, her husband would never let her go without a fight. No. It was best to just leave her alone. He had ruined her life enough already. There was no reason to hurt her any further.

Just thinking about Christine still hurt. As much as Erik tried to be otherwise, he still was very much in love with her, and he still hated Raoul de Chagny for taking his angel away. Forgive and forget, that's what he was supposed to do, but he just couldn't. He wouldn't let go. He _couldn't_ let go. Something just wouldn't allow it.

He stormed back downstairs to his lair. Erik sat at his organ and played out his frustration. The music that emanated from the instrument was violent, murderously so. If notes could kill, there was no doubt in Erik's mind that this composition would.

Eventually Erik ran out of sheer rage and the music lurched to a sudden halt. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the tension that was building in his head as waves of guilt and misery crashed over him. Years ago, he had been Christine's guardian angel, helping her grow and blossom. If only she could see him now. Maybe it was for the best that she was off happily married, he thought miserably. God knows she was probably happier with de Chagny wherever they were than she ever could be here with him.

"You're no angel," he snapped at his reflection, cracks from the broken mirror distorting it. "You never were and never will be. Not an Angel of Music, especially not a guardian angel." He let out a heavy sigh, fighting back bitter tears. "Christine was always the angel, never you."

The thought of going to find Christine came back to him, but Erik shoved it aside. "She got her fairytale ending. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked himself. "Weren't you willing to do whatever it took to make her happy? Isn't that why you let them go?" Erik stood and started to pace. "Oh Christine," he sighed. "My Christine."

* * *

"_Christine, Christine..._"

She woke with a start. "Christine," her husband whispered softly again. Christine sat up and attempted to get her pounding heart under control. Her husband could never know, but she had been dreaming about Erik again. For a moment, before she had woken up, she thought she could hear his voice calling to her.

Raoul pulled her close and kissed her gently. "Good morning Christine." She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in her husband's embrace. Erik was long gone, but Raoul was here. "Do you know what today is?" he asked, a grin lighting up his face.

"How could I forget?" she replied, returning his smile.

He brushed his lips across hers once more before getting out of bed. "Get dressed Little Lotte. I have a surprise downstairs for you." Once he left, Christine climbed out of bed to do as he asked. She pulled on one of her favorite lilac dresses then brushed out her hair and pinned it up. Then she headed down the hall to wake the children.

"Kristoffer darling, you need to get up." Her son groaned in protest and pulled the blanket over his face. Christine sighed. They had this fight every morning. He was definitely a night owl, and didn't get along well with mornings. She pulled the blanket away and shook his shoulder gently. "Kristoffer wake up."

Finally he stretched and sat up. "Good morning darling," Christine said with a smile as the drowsy little boy wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She tried to smooth his dark hair, which stuck out at all angles. "Get dressed," she instructed. "Breakfast will be soon."

Aria was, like always, much easier to wake than her brother. A gentle shake of her shoulder was all Christine needed to wake her daughter. Aria embraced her mother, with her usual bright smile. "Good morning Mother!"

Christine kissed her daughter's forehead. "Good morning sweetheart. You need to get ready. Your father's waiting downstairs for us."

Once the children were up and moving, Christine headed downstairs to find her husband. She walked into the dining room and froze. Lying in her spot at the table was a single red rose. Her mind instantly went to Erik. He had always left her a single red rose after a performance. But he couldn't have been in here, could he?

A gasp escaped her lips as an arm wrapped around her waist. "Happy anniversary!" Raoul whispered in her ear. He spun her around so that she was facing him, gave her a playful sweeping bow, and presented the rose to her with a flourish. "Eight years now. Can you believe it?"

Her husband leaned in and captured her lips. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When she saw the rose, Christine had honestly thought Erik had been here. She knew she needed to accept that Erik was out of her life for good. Raoul was her husband and she loved him. "Eight magical years," he said softly. "The best eight of my life."

"Oh Raoul," she gasped, accepting the flower and smelling the fragrant petals. "It's beautiful. Thank you." Her husband had no idea of the flower's significance; she had never spoken of them to him. To Raoul, it was a romantic gesture, but to her, it was tearing at the scar tissue covering her heart.

Christine didn't have time to dwell on it though. The sound of feet running down the stairs, as well as the shouts and squeals from her children drew her attention from the flower and the past to her family and the present.


End file.
